


La Mort dans Dentelle | Death in Lace

by covenofthearticulate



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Birthday Sex, Lingerie, M/M, powerbottom!Louis, what more could you want honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 02:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covenofthearticulate/pseuds/covenofthearticulate
Summary: Louis is turning 252 this year, and for the 252nd year in a row, Lestat manages to pull off another surprise.





	La Mort dans Dentelle | Death in Lace

Louis had always been a late sleeper. Though he loved to blame it on his youth and vampiric weakness, Lestat knew that Louis stayed curled up in bed well after sun down for no other reason beside his love of the warm, weighted duvet and the human-like heaviness that settles into his bones if he stays still for long enough. Lestat knew better than to do anything to disturb him from his slumber, so instead, he quietly slipped out from under the covers and began to set up for the night. 

The October night air was deliciously crisp against his face as he strolled out onto the main street, hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket as he strutted down the street. He passed a few delicious looking evil-doers on his way to the shop- the violent homophobes were always his favorite- but he had to restrain himself from temptation for now. He was on a mission. He needed to get the presents first, then feed, then go directly home to Louis to share his gifts, and more importantly, his fresh blood. 

There were plenty of sex shops in New Orleans, but he had a favorite, of course. The one only a few blocks away, on the corner of Touluse and Dauphine, right next to the record store (that he whole-heartedly wished he could stop by, if only he had more time). He waved hello to Stephanie, who had worked there for nearly ten years now, and was careful to move out of the glow of the neon and fluorescent lights as he chatted to her. Yes, it had been too long. Yes, his last purchase had turned out fine. No, he wouldn’t be needing to stock up on lube or batteries tonight. Normally, he would have dragged Louis into the shop and forced him to pick out something he liked so that Lestat’s thirst for curiosity would be quenched, without trampling Louis’ agency or forcing him into something he didn’t truly want. Now, breaking down his strict Catholic walls in order to get him to make a decision in the first place was a battle all on it’s own, but it was always well worth it in the end. Tonight, however, Lestat decided he would play nice. Lord knows he’d forced Louis into enough humiliating situations for a lifetime, so this time he would get off the hook.

 “I’m not technically buying for myself tonight, chère,” He informed her with a textbook flash of his mischievous smile.

“It’s my boyfriend’s birthday.”

 _Boyfriend._

Oh, how Louis would blush if he were here now (though, on second thought, knowing him, he would’ve been blushing from the moment he was dragged through the front door). Lestat had to admit, it _was_ rather odd, applying new-age vocabulary to his relationship. It felt silly, almost, considering the heavy history the two of them had. Boyfriends were people who went to coffee, who sent flirty texts. They could be the ones who asked you to prom only to dump you halfway through the night, or who date you and move in with you for years, but never seem to find the right moment to pop the question. It was certainly not a term for someone who sets you on fire as a coping mechanism after raising a child for seven decades together. But c’est la vie.

Tonight, Louis would be his two-hundred-and-fifty-two-year-old boyfriend, and there was nothing Louis could do about it.

Lestat already knew where he was headed. He gave the clerk a small little shake of his head, indicating that he knew the way and wouldn’t be requiring any assistance. It was the back of the shop that he needed to get to, all the way past the handcuffs and ‘couples toys’ and ‘sale’ sections.

Ah, how he loved lingerie. Would he ever get tired of lace? He couldn’t fathom ever living without it. The different textures and cuts and colors were so brilliant in the modern era, he could hardly contain his joy. Though he found himself browsing the expensive collections at the department stores, he’d recently come to the conclusion that the selection was just as good in filthy little shops like these. And realistically, it did not make sense to invest in something that in all likelihood be ripped to shreds by the end of the night.

He didn’t care if they didn’t fit him quite correctly (the ones made for men were often too ugly, anyway), but was more preoccupied with the quality and color of the various laces. He needed something soft and slim, something that would fit beneath his jeans without riding up or sitting too high on his hips; for that would surely give away the surprise. As for the color, he reluctantly surpassed the deep blood red pair that caught his eyes, instead going for a lighter color. When his eyes finally drifted upon the perfect set, he nearly let out a small gasp. Light blue, the same shade that was so often reflected in his eyes. Satin, with a luxurious lace trim. And the stockings! What he wouldn’t have given to have a pair like these back in the days when it was fashionable, erotic even, for young men to show their shapely calves. And now they were meant for women. The little bows at the cutoff near the thigh made him chuckle, but he gathered them up nonetheless, and went to pay.

“I’ll be back for those red ones, as well. Hopefully soon,” he said as he swiped his card.

“No, don’t bother putting them on hold. If they’re gone by the time I can convince my boyfriend to come back with me, then perhaps I’ll just bloody up a pair of my own. 

He smiled the cashier, who politely laughed along with him, but reached out to stop her once she began to grab a bag for him.

“Oh, darling, that won’t be necessary. _You’ve got a changing room, don’t you?_ ”

By the time Lestat got back to their flat, he was burning with the Blood. The homophobic bullies he’d saved for later were a delectable treat.

As expected, Louis was awake in bed by the time Lestat slipped through the door. He had felt the temperature shift immediately, and through his groggy haze, he looked at Lestat with wide, dilated eyes. He hadn’t really been sleeping; he’d been _drifting._ Unable to face the idea that he was two hundred and fifty two years old, he let his mind dissociate, and told himself that he would only get up when Lestat forced him.

But the way his senses sharpened and his heart quickened the instant Lestat was near was almost comical. He sat up in bed, alert, focused, aroused 

“You went out.” Not a question, but a statement. Dangerously close to an accusation. _You weren’t here when I woke up._

“I wasn’t aware I was on house arrest, _mon coeur._ ” Lestat laughed as casually as he could, despite the fact that the way Louis looked at him made him want to utterly fall apart. _So beautiful_ with his bed-head and old ratty shirt (You didn’t even see that _Red Hot Chili Peppers_ tour, you got that garbage at a thrift shop, why on earth do you insist on wearing it?, he wanted to scold).

“I wasn’t aware that staying in bed with one’s lover was considered _arrest.”_ The response was nearly automatic. He didn’t even mean it. He wasn’t angry with Lestat, but rebuking his every argument was as thoughtless as breathing, nowadays.

In lieu of a reply, Lestat simply rolled his eyes and crossed the room. _Play nice, for now. It’s his birthday_ , he reminded himself. He slid under the covers, and was instantly greeted by an armful of Louis, who had turned out to be all bark and no bite, as per usual.

Louis couldn’t remember a time where he felt a thirst as soul-wrenching and all-encapsulating as he did in that very moment. He could see it flowering in Lestat’s cheeks, hear it rushing through his heart and throbbing in each and every vein. God, were his lips always so plump, so pink? He couldn’t remember. Couldn’t tether himself to memory or body or anything but the pure radiant heat of his lover.

The sharp iridescent blue of his eyes was what drew Louis back. How calm they seemed, like cool slow-drifting icebergs, demanding his attention and allowing him to find focus in this endless ocean.

“Louis…”

He had one hand in Louis’ hair, the other gently scratching at his back, finding that one spot at the base of his spine that made him mew like a cat. But he was losing the reigns as quickly as he had snatched them, and the instant he felt those divinely cool lips on his neck, all he could do was inhale a sharp breath.

 “Yes?” Louis smiled against his lover’s neck, relishing the feeling of Lestat squirming beneath him.

 “ _Don’t be a tease_.” He couldn’t bring himself to outright beg. Not quite yet. The night was still rather young, after all. But God, how he wanted it. He was so good at masking desires like these in the past. At times it seemed too submissive to give the Blood. Too weak. But that didn’t stop the throbbing ache from the very core of his being, desperate for it.

  _Too hot, too much. Take it. It’s yours. It’s all yours. Take me._

The blood swoon was magical, as always. And as always, neither one of them could truly remember anything that happened in those few blissful moments. Only that they had seen the face of Heaven in the blood, that they had been open to one another, had seen into each other’s hearts, and then were panting on top of a heap of pillows once more.

“It’s only nine o’clock” Lestat let out a roar of laughter as he heard one of the clocks in the parlour begin to chime. “My God, Louis, you’ve tired me out. And to think…I haven’t even given you your present.”

Louis stared at his maker, his cheeks now flushed, a small smile playing upon his lips.

“I told you I didn’t want a present.”

It was true for the most part. He didn’t need any more _things._ He had all the books he could ever want, and it was no use for Lestat to spend money on some silly surprise that he would surely return the very next night. No, what Louis had requested for his birthday this year was not a physical gift, but a peaceful night in. A movie marathon, perhaps, or a game night even. Something small.

 “Don’t worry, _mon coeur._ It isn’t a traditional gift. Though Lord knows why you so _detest_ my tokens of affection.”

“Is that why you were gone? You got it while I was sleeping?”

He cocked his head just a bit to the right; one of his many textbook movies that he knew would absolutely skewer his lover.

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t carrying any bags. I would have heard them.”

“Correct again.”

“So…”

“So, my dear little intellectual-“ Lestat kicked off the duvet and rolled on top of is fledgling, pressing their foreheads together and giving him a firm kiss before pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “-logic would suggest that if I did not have any bags, but I did bring home a present, then it must be…”

“Small.”

“Hm. In a sense, yes.”

“Portable.”

“Certainly.”

“Discreet. You had nothing in your hands when you came in the room.”

“So what is your final conclusion?”

“…Lestat.” His brow was furrowed as he reached down to feel Lestat’s right trouser pocket. “If this is a proposal, I swear…”

“Louis! _Mon dieu,_ of course not!” He had to roll over in his fit of sudden laughter, so as to not bang his forehead against his lover’s.

Louis sat, still discontent and suspicious, cheeks flushing with newly found warmth at the mere embarrassment of being so _wrong._ But who could blame him, really? The subject had come up a number of times within the last few years, and it had put him on edge. Of course Lestat knew he wasn’t keen on a wedding, but then again, it wasn’t very much like Lestat to actually obey his requests, was it? And so the question had loomed over him on all the special occasions- Christmas and New Year’s, especially. He had managed to get through each event unscathed, but he couldn’t ignore the nagging sensation that Lestat would rock the boat sooner or later with the Big Question.

“You really think I’d propose to you like _this?_ With you in your pajamas in bed, when you’ve not even been awake half an hour? Darling, you underestimate me.”

He gave Louis a sound kiss on the nose, as if to dispel the notion- to point out its silliness, even- like a mother insuring a child that the closet is void of monsters.

“What _is_ my present, then?” He snapped.

Lestat let out a huff as Louis’ sharp tone cut through his mirth, but shuffled out of bed nonetheless, mumbling something along the lines of “-and you call _me_ the idiot.”

Once standing, he took off his shirt and shook out his hair. By the time he re-opened his eyes, he once again felt the jolt in the pit of his stomach as he looked down to find Louis’ emerald green eyes piercing right through him again. Did he know how utterly disarming that was? He must have, for why else would the corner of his mouth be tugged up into a small smile at that moment?

He shook his head once again, giving off the impression of shaking out his mane, when really, he needed to clear his head of the inevitable blissful fog that came each time he realized just how lucky he was to belong to such a beautiful creature.

Slowly, he undid his pants, staring at his lover with a cheeky smile as he let them hit the floor. Shamelessly, he stood at the bedside, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as he modeled the new blue translucent stockings and matching delicate blue panties, trimmed in lace.

He didn’t know what he expected Louis’ reaction to be, but when he seemed to do nothing more than stare at him with raised brows, Lestat gnawed on his lip for a second before speaking up.

“ _Joyeux Anniversaire, mon coeur._ ”

“...oh.”

“ _Oh?_ ”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” His tone was flat, as usual. A rhetorical tactic to withhold his thoughts, as usual.

“Well yes, that was point. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with the concept of a surprise, but-“

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Now it was Lestat’s turn to be speechless.

“…well, are we going to make love, or what, then?” he finally forced the words out, feeling rather like a deer in headlights under Louis’ gaze.

“Let me look at you, first.”

_Ah, so that’s what he was doing._

Louis crawled to the edge of the bed and sat, cross-legged, hands folded in his lap, as he simply stared at Lestat. Though he would never allow his expression to show it, he was floored by the beautiful specimen he saw before him. It brought back a familiar ache, one he had not felt in a long time, one that he thought to have gone extinct along with all his memories of a time long ago. A time when he was absolutely baffled by this young man who promised him such grand things, who could cure his heartache with a smile, but shatter him into a million pieces with a mere gesture of his hand. An ache that hooked him straight in the belly, that had him hanging on every last word that fell from those delectable pink lips, that made it impossible for him to breathe when he wasn’t near to this divine creature. It was a bittersweet ache, but he welcomed the pain, just as he welcomed the new memories that were soon to fill its place. He remembered a time where stockings were mandatory, and he had dreaded putting them on. But the way they defined Lestat’s legs now was positively miraculous. He had more muscle than Louis, but was still slim and toned. His hips were a bit too square for the underwear, but he liked the way the lace stretched and dipped to conform to his shape. Even the smattering of blond hair and bulge in the front were mesmerizingly beautiful in their own way.

Hands still folded in his lap, Louis leaned forward and pressed the side of his face against Lestat’s belly. For a moment, he closed his eyes and let out an appreciative hum as he felt fingers begin to thread through his hair. He turned and kissed the pale flesh, smiling as he felt it flutter beneath his lips. He gave a playful nip, then pulled back and encircled his arms around his lover’s waist.

“You look very nice.” A clear understatement, but he refused to inflate Lestat’s ego any more. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Lestat let out a breathy laugh as he gently unwound Louis from around his waist and swatted at his thigh to tell him to move back.

Once he was seated back on the side of the bed, his knees bent over the edge, Lestat glided in one swift movement to sit directly in his lap, straddling his legs. Arms draped over his lover’s shoulder, he leaned in for a slow kiss. It was deep and urgent, as most of his kisses tended to be, but Louis had no qualms. In fact, after a few blissful moments, it was Louis who decided to lead the attack, to plunge his tongue deeper, to assert dominance with his most insidious weapon.

His hands stroked gently up and down sides, up his back, dipping down every now and again to cup his ass but never giving him the satisfaction of a squeeze or anything that would provide more friction. Lestat was moaning in no time, wondering how, once again, Louis had managed to completely subvert the power dynamic without him even noticing. But that was Louis’ specialty, wasn’t it? Always waiting for just the right moment, always finding his way to control through the most cunning of tactics that left Lestat as infuriated as he was impressed. Nowadays, he was mostly just impressed. Because, truly, it was very nice when Louis took the reigns. It not only kindled an intense heat in the pit of his belly to see such passion in his lover, but it was reaffirming to know that this was something Louis _wanted._ No more coercion. Louis was 252, for Christ’s sake, he was old enough to make these decisions, and the fact that he still chose Lestat time and time again was a miracle in his eyes.

It was Louis’ turn to let out a small groan as Lestat began to grind down against him, but he refused to break the kiss, and instead simply moved one hand to rest on Lestat’s waist to feel the flex and roll of his muscles. He only pulled away when he felt hands creeping under his shirt, then tugging it impatiently up under his armpits until he was forced to move in order to let it pass between them, only to be tossed unceremoniously on the floor beside them.

As they caught their breath, Lestat pulled Louis closer once more, cradling his head against his chest and pressing kisses into his hair with such an aching tenderness that Louis could do nothing more than let out an appreciative whimper. It never got old, this simple feeling of skin against skin. Louis in his boxers, and Lestat in his lingerie, chest to chest in an unexpected embrace. The beat of Lestat’s heart echoed in Louis’ blood, calling to him, pulsing like a lighthouse to bring home his lost shipwreck of a heart.

 _Te voilà._ You exist. You are here.

“I think it’s about time to unwrap your present,” Lestat whispered with a smile in his voice, nudging against Louis’ erection as if to prove his point.

“No.” Louis kept his head tucked under Lestat’s chin, but let his hands roam up and down Lestat’s thighs until he eventually moved higher to let his fingers play at the lace lining of the little blue scrap of fabric that stretched across the sacred land he had so often worshipped. “Keep them on.”

Giving him no time to react, Louis tugged a handful of blond curls and craned his neck to kiss him once again. It was faster and harsher this time, but Lestat kept up well, and once again began to roll his hips. Louis growled as the friction went straight to his erection, which was barely contained by the loose grey boxers around his waist. He was done with the teasing now, and grabbed his maker’s ass with no hesitation, kneading the flesh and digging his nails in just enough to make the pain tingle and pulse through his lower half. After another minute or so, he slipped one hand in between them to rub at the bulge in Lestat’s delicate blue panties. It was a miracle the material had endured this long, Louis noted, for Lestat was _hard._ Harder than any human.

Louis pulled back from the kiss, leaning forward to press his head against Lestat’s shoulder as he looked down at the way the satin and lace strained against his cock. Unable to help himself, he pulled at the waistline just a bit, just enough for the head to poke out. He swore he came close to drooling as he ran his finger from the base to the swollen tip. It really was such fun to play with. He gave no mercy as he ran his thumb under the ridge of the head, then over the slit at the very tip. So _sensitive,_ he wondered if he could make him come just like this. The only reason he looked away was when he felt Lestat’s body shiver and contort, and the next time he lifted his eyes, he saw his maker tensed, head thrown back, mouth agape, desperate for more. Louis grabbed ahold of him through the lingerie, squeezing and massaging at different tempos so as to never let him settle into one rhythm.

The blush that began to blossom down his neck and across his chest made Louis’ heart skip a beat, and he leaned forward to kiss and lick and nip at the exposed flesh; not biting just yet, but reveling in the hunger that lived in the back of his throat. As he found his way lower, he made sure to lave and bite at each nipple, only encouraged by the squeaks and shivers of his lover in response.

“Louis…”

“Yes?”

“Please.”

Lestat would have rolled his eyes if they weren’t squeezed shut, when he felt Louis’ lips curl into a smile against the skin of his chest.

“What was that?”

“ _Please._ ”

“Please what?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh?”

Louis let out a chuckle as he pulled his head up and leaned back on the bed with one arm. He stared at Lestat with a casual expression that he knew would get on his nerves, as if to say _I’ve got all night, go ahead, take your time._

“... _baise-moi.”_

Louis smiled a rare full smile before gripping Lestat’s hips and roughly tugging him closer.

“ _Avec plaisir.”_

He pressed one hand flat against Lestat’s back and guided him forward until he was leaning over Louis, shoulder to shoulder. His other hand then came around to his ass, rubbing and squeezing for a few moments before slipping underneath the material and stroking the sensitive skin around his hole. He massaged at it until he felt Lestat melting against him, then brought his hand back to his mouth in order to prick his finger. The instant the scent of blood hit the air, he could feel Lestat’s body tremble in anticipation, and he wasted no time in slicking his fingers so that he could slide them into his maker. As he worked in his second finger up to the knuckle, he couldn’t help but let out a small moan in unison with Lestat. The feeling of him clenched around his fingers had Louis’ patience growing ever thin; he couldn’t stop thinking of such delicious warmth and pressure around his cock. Still, he took his time pushing in and out, every now and again scissoring his fingers apart before completely pulling out and plunging in again.

“I’m ready, Louis.” Lestat finally panted. It was a damn crime, this barrier between them. Lestat had never been one for words, and finding them at a time like this was damn near impossible.

Giving a small nod, Louis silently instructed his lover to raise his hips just a bit, so that he could remove his boxers and kick them to the floor. Then, once he came down again, Louis reached around to grab hold of the panties and pull them to the side as he gripped the base of his own painfully hard cock with his other hand.

“Lestat…” he waited until those wonderful iridescent eyes focused on him. “You’re going to ride me.”

He should have felt humiliated. He should have felt small and weak under Louis’ command, but he only felt intense, burning desire. _Yes, Louis. I’ll ride you. I’ll follow you through hell. All you have to do is ask._

All Lestat could do was exhale and nod, allowing himself to be guided down until the tip of Louis’ cock was nestled between his cheeks. Sucking in a deep breath, he allowed himself to slowly sink down onto it, letting a low and guttural moan ripple from deep in his belly as he settled all the way down and was filled so completely. He couldn’t remember anything before this moment, and couldn’t imagine anything past it. _God,_ did it always feel this way? Every single time, he felt so overwhelmed by how _complete_ it felt. It was a crime that he could not be like this with Louis for the rest of eternity!

“ _Ma moitié_.” He whispered. _My other half._

They both gasped as he rocked his hips, and he let out a contented hum as he leaned forward to kiss his lover once more, covering them both in a curtain of golden hair. Louis grabbed Lestat in whatever way he could- one arm around his waist and the other around his neck, cradling and scratching at the base of his skull as they found a rhythm. Everything was hot and wet and so lovely. All he could feel, hear, see, and smell was _Lestat._ Lestat’s hot breath on his face, Lestat’s blood calling to him under the skin, Lestat around his cock, Lestat on his lips, _Lestat, Lestat, Lestat._

He couldn’t help himself as he gripped his lover and sunk his fangs into the primal fount of his artery. _Give it to me, give me everything, I want it, God, I want it, I need it, please, more, more, more!_

He drank all he could, and shuttered as he rolled out of the blood swoon only to realize that the rhythm had been broken, that Lestat had been rendered hazy and lightheaded from the giving of his blood.

Grabbing hold of his hips once more, Louis stood up and flipped their positions. He threw Lestat back in bed against the pillows before once again sliding into him and finding a rhythm in no time. He grunted and groaned as he grabbed one of his lover’s legs and threw it over his shoulder to adjust the angle, earning him a sharp cry and appreciative string of babble in response.

“Yes! Louis, _oh,_ yes, _mon dieu, n’arrête pas!”_

Eventually, each breath turned into a sharp inhale, and he drove ruthlessly into Lestat as he raced towards his own climax. Normally, he would have leaned down to kiss and caress his lover, but the view from above was too good to pass up right now. God, what a debauched beauty was beneath him! How depraved and demented he looked with his panties all twisted and stretched, stockings fallen down, leaky cock poking out just above the center of the panties, where a small decorative bow added a final touch of fragility to the fragmented beauty.

“Louis…” his maker whined, staring down at the flesh in between them and silently asking for release, for permission to tip over the edge.

Leaning in for a kiss, Louis reached between them and grabbed Lestat’s cock, finally freeing it from the tight lingerie that now cut into his skin. He pulled back only a few inches to bring his wrist to his mouth, ripping at the skin without hesitation or ceremony. Leaving a trail of crimson down the valley of Lestat’s chest, between his ribs and down to his navel, Louis let the blood collect in his hand for a moment before slathering it over his lover’s cock, relishing the sharp cry of pleasure he earned in response.

“Oh! Fuck!” It wasn’t like Lestat to use modern swears in bed unless he was overwhelmed or taken by surprise.

“It’s alright, Lestat,” he voice was softer now, less harsh than before. “You’ve been a wonderful present. Let go now.”

His strokes quickened until the gash on his wrist closed up, at which point he brought it up to Lestat’s mouth, urging him to drink.

And then he felt nothing. Nothing and everything, all at once. Scalding white hot pleasure deep within and all around him. The blood opened him up to Lestat, and he felt his pleasure, his liberation in submission, his pure bliss and uncensored outpour of love and lust and everything in between. And he was screaming too, yes, shouting Lestat’s name as he buried deep inside of him and his whole body tensed and he filled him with the heat that had been boiling inside of him all this time. Lestat was tight around him, tighter than he ever felt, and as his fangs retracted, the sharp pleasure and pain was replaced with a dull throbbing.

He gave a few more strokes, allowing Lestat to ride out every last wave, and seeing just how much his own over-sensitive cock could take. When it was too much, he pulled out and collapsed into bed with a huff.

It was a full five minutes before either one of them said anything. Louis could have fallen right back asleep, but he forced himself to stay up, for he knew there was no way Lestat would allow him to spend his _entire_ birthday in bed.

“What do you think? Salvageable, or ruined beyond repair?”

When he lifted his head and moved the hair from his eyes, he was greeted by Lestat with his usual smug smile, holding the stretched and blood-stained panties on the end of one finger.

“Toss it,” he mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

“Shame,” Lestat pouted, throwing them off the side of the bed before turning on his side and wrapping an arm around Louis. “There was a pair of gorgeous red ones at the shop. Had I known you would respond so… _positively,_ I would have splurged on them, as well.”

“Hm,” Louis replied, unwilling to admit his interest.

"Did you honest to God think I was proposing to you?"

" _Shut up._ "

"If I did ask you, without all the spectacle, in the private domesticity of our home...would you say yes?"

"...I might. But not now. Not tonight."

Lestat nodded, unsurprised by the usual candor of his answer. He pressed a small kiss to Louis' shoulder to acknowledge the moment, but said nothing more for as long as he could stand it. When he felt the urge to speak to his lover again, he propped himself on one elbow and leaned over to stare at the absolute vision that was disheveled, post-coitus Louis de Pointe du Lac.

“Louis?”

“Hm?”

“If I let you sleep for one more hour, will you let me take you out? It’s trivia night down at the Jimani. I promise I won’t even pick a stupid team name or anything.”

Louis smiled, and turned around to face Lestat with a raised brow. “You can’t laugh when I purposefully slip in wrong answers, either.”

“You drive a tough bargain, Pointe du Lac,” he replied in mock annoyance before giving him a long sound kiss.

“Louis?”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday. I’m glad you’ve stuck around this long.”

“…me too.”


End file.
